


Santa Baby

by flowercrownclem



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: A Couple of References to Drug Use, Flavored Lube, Implied/Referenced Smut, Luke's Gold Boots, M/M, Santa Michael, Sugar Baby Luke, Sugar Daddy Michael, i'm sorry for this trash, whiny luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8721694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercrownclem/pseuds/flowercrownclem
Summary: All Luke wants for Christmas is a Sugar Saddy and when a red-haired Santa Claus tries to explain why he can't give Luke a living person as a gift he decides that he may as well try and seduce St. Nick while he's here.





	

Luke wanted a Sugar Daddy for Christmas. He had been good that year and he thought that he deserved it. He had expensive tastes and liked to be taken care of, but hadn’t had a steady boyfriend since high school and he was growing lonely. Plus, with student loan debts and a shitty job he could barely pay rent, let alone buy the shiny gold boots he’d been lusting after for months. The year before he had written a letter to Santa asking for a Sugar Daddy but when he went into his living room on Christmas morning there were no human-shaped parcels waiting for him under the tree. He moped around for a week after that, waiting for a generous and loving man to knock on his door and let him know that he was his belated Christmas present. Calum and Ashton, his best friends, both told him he was being ridiculous and that “Santa’s not even fucking real, Luke.” Which he knew, of course, but he’d never seen undeniable proof that there wasn’t a jolly old man in the north pole reading letters and granting wishes, so he thought it was worth a shot.

This Christmas he was determined to find out once and for all if his efforts were worth it or not, and if they were, to ask Santa what the fuck his problem was and why he wouldn’t grant Luke’s one and only Christmas wish. This was supposed to be the season of giving, not disappointing. This Christmas he was going to hide out behind the couch with the biggest mug of coffee he could find and he was going to catch this Santa punk in the act of leaving Luke Sugar Daddy-less.

 

Luke woke up disoriented and momentarily confused when he realized he was wedged behind the musty couch that had been in his apartment since he moved in, an empty coffee cup cradled in his lap and the whole place dark except for a low glow coming from his Christmas tree. But then he heard the shuffling coming from the fireplace and suddenly he was wide awake. He slowly lifted his head up over the back of the couch so that just his eyes were showing, widening when he saw the red-dressed figure dragging a huge brown sack across the floor. Luke carefully slid along the wall and came to crouch beside the couch, laying his hand on the arm of it and leaning out to watch the figure make it’s way towards his meager little Christmas tree.

“There had better be a CEO or something in there,” Luke said, resting his chin over his hand on the couch.

“Jesus  _ fuck! _ ” the figure cursed, dropping the sack to clutch their chest. When they turned around Luke saw that they were a boy around his age, wearing a full Santa suit, the red velvet trousers tucked haphazardly into a pair of shiny black Doc Martins.

“You’re not Santa,” Luke frowned. “What are you doing in my house, Creep?”

“I am  _ too _ Santa,” the boy bristled. “What the fuck are you doing up?”

“Nuh-uh,” Luke shook his head, standing up to sling his legs up onto the couch and perch on the arm. “Santa’s old and you can’t be more than a couple years older than me, and Santa’s supposed to have a big white beard. Plus, Santa doesn’t say ‘fuck’.”

“Well this Santa does,” the boy growled. “Now go back to bed so I can do my job.”

“Nope,” Luke said. “Not until you tell me why you won’t grant my Christmas wish.”

“Is this about the Sugar Daddy thing again?” the boy asked, looking impatient.

“Good,” Luke grinned, “you got my letter.”

“Look,” the boy frowned. “You can’t ask for a sentient being for Christmas. That’s not how it works. I can’t just make a person appear out of thin air, and I can’t kidnap some guy and tie him up to leave under your tree. That’s fucked up.”

“What about all those kids who get puppies for Christmas?” Luke asked. “They’re alive. They’re sentient.”

“They’re also baby dogs, who don’t have lives or incomes,” the boy rolled his eyes. 

“But I was good this year!” Luke whined, pulling a crumpled piece of lined paper from his pocket. “‘January 3rd,’” he read, pointedly raising his voice, “‘Cal offered me the last hit on his blunt but I told him to take it because I’m a  _ good _ friend. January 15th: Ashton fell asleep on my couch and I drew a dick on his forehead with a  _ washable crayola  _ marker, instead of a sharpie. January 18th: The old lady in front of me at the grocery store paid for 27 dollars worth of stuff in all change and I didn’t complain at all, even when she dropped a roll of quarters and they went everywhere. I even helped pick some up! February-’”

“Stop!” the boy pleaded. “Look, I’ve got a waffle iron in here for you, could you just take it so I can go to the next house already? Please?”

Luke chewed on the inside of his lip as he thought it over, looking the boy up and down from the bright red hair peaking out of his fur-trimmed hat to the overstuffed sack at his feet.

“What else you got in there?” he asked, his expression neutral.

“I dunno,” the boy sighed, pulling the hat from his head and slumping his shoulders. “A lot of shit. I’m in charge of all of Australia and New Zealand. There’s a lot of fucking presents in here.”

“You must be tired,” Luke hummed, folding his legs underneath him and slipping down to sit properly on the couch. He patted the cushion beside him and looked at the other boy hopefully. “Why don’t you sit down for a while?”

When the other boy made no move but to narrow his eyes at him, Luke patted the spot again, trying his best to look inviting.

“C’mon, Kris Kringle,” he said, his eyes lighting up with a little giggle.

“My name’s not Kris Kringle,” the boy said, his voice slightly closer to fond than annoyed as he came to sit on the couch. “It’s Michael.”

“But in the 1970 Christmas classic  _ Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town _ , Kris Kringle delivers the presents and becomes Santa Claus,” Luke argued.

“I-” Michael gave Luke a perplexed look before shaking his head and continuing. “Yeah, he did. But that was way back at the beginning - now there’s way more Santas, and we’re not all old. It’s way easier to get every kid on earth when you delegate, and when you’re not a fucking thousand years old.”

“But you still wear the outfit?” Luke asked, pulling Michael’s red velvet hat into his own lap and running his fingers over the soft white fur.

“It’s tradition,” Michael shrugged. “It’d be like if the mailman delivered your mail in sweats. It’d be weird.”

“Well I like it,” Luke told him, looking up from under his eyelashes. “I think you look cute in it. The red makes your eyes pop.”

“Uh, thanks,” Michael said, gently pulling his hat out of Luke’s grip. “I really gotta get going. I’ll just leave the waffle iron under the tree.”

“But I don’t want a waffle iron,” Luke pouted.

“Yes you do,” Michael said matter-of-factly. “On October 3rd Ashton Irwin bought a Williams-Sonoma Classic Round Waffle Maker and when you saw it you said, and I quote, ‘Damn, that’s a nice fucking waffle iron. I want one of those.’”

“But that doesn’t  _ count, _ ” Luke whined. “There’s lots of things I want, but they’re not my Christmas wish! How did you even know all that stuff? Are you stalking me?”

“No,” Michael scoffed. “Just... Checking in. It’s part of the job, okay? The whole ‘sees you when you’re sleeping’ thing.”

“So,” Luke said, his pout turning into something else that Michael couldn’t quite decipher. “What else did you see?”

“I saw when you told Calum you saw a stray dog on the side of the road and made him get out to look for it then drove away and left him there,” Michael told him blandly.

“I only drove around the block!” Luke argued. “And he laughed when I let him back in the car. He was only a little sad when I told him there was never actually a dog. But I took him to the shelter to play with the puppies to make up for it!”

“Just assume that we saw everything, okay?” Michael said, starting to stand up. Luke reached out a hand quickly and grabbed onto his sleeve, tugging him back down to the couch and shifting up onto his knees.

“Even the more...  _ Intimate _ moments?” he asked, biting his lip in an attempt to appear coy.

“We, uh, we don’t usually watch those,” Michael swallowed.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Luke pointed out lowly, sliding his hands up to settle behind Michael’s neck and leaning in closer. “Did you watch?”

“I, um, I don’t-” Michael stuttered, letting his eyes linger for too long on Luke’s lips as they came closer and closer to his own. Suddenly Michael frowned and pulled back. “Wait, are you still just trying to get me to give you a Sugar Daddy?”

“Is it working?” Luke asked, his eyes full of hope.

“ _ No, _ ” Michael told him, exasperatedly. “I told you, I can’t give you a person for Christmas. That’s morally wrong, okay?”

“What if I wanted  _ you _ for Christmas?” Luke asked, clutching the fabric of Michael’s jacket in his hands.

“What? Why would you want me?” Michael scoffed. “You don’t _ know _ me.”

“I know about as much as I’d know about a tindr date,” Luke shrugged. “And you’re cute. And rich. Plus you seem nice. You know, when you’re not being grumpy.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Michael said sarcastically, “but I have presents to deliver and there’s not much time before the sun comes up.”

“C’mon,  _ please? _ ” Luke whined, throwing one leg over Michael’s hips and settling on his lap to keep him from moving. “I’d be so good for you, promise!”

“Luke, I’m not having sex with you,” he said firmly, placing his hands on Luke’s waist and trying unsuccessfully to lift the taller boy off of him.

“But why?” Luke pouted, winding his fingers tightly in Michael’s hair. “Do you not want me?”

“No, I- of course I do,” Michael shook his head. “But I-”

“Please?” Luke whimpered, looking like he was about to cry if he didn’t get what he wanted. Michael sighed and leaned forward, capturing the blonde boy’s lips in a soft kiss.

“Not right now,” he murmured, his breath fanning over Luke’s lips. “Maybe later, okay? I don’t have time right now.”

    “But you’re already half hard,” Luke pointed out, pressing back against Michael's dick and making the older boy wince slightly. “And I stashed gingerbread flavored lube out here and everything! It’s a  _ seasonal _ product, when am I going to use it again?”

    “Jesus,” Michael glanced to where Luke was pulling a small bottle out from behind the cushions.

    “Happy Birthday,” Luke said offhandedly between the kisses he was littering along Michael’s neck.

    “What?” Michael asked, frowning.

    “Happy Birthday,” Luke repeated, biting down harshly on Michael’s collarbone. “It’s Jesus’ birthday today. I think that’s all the more reason for you to get your dick in me.”

    “How does that logic work out?” Michael asked, amused.

    “He died for our sins, Michael. Do you want him to have died for nothing?” Luke reasoned, reaching for the waistband of Michael’s pants, humming some hymn about Jesus’ rising under his breath.

    Michael caught his hand before Luke could shove it completely down his pants and berated, “Stop being so greedy, Luke, or you won’t get anything at all.”

    Luke nodded, a pout still on his face.

    “But it’s  _ seasonal _ ,” he mumbled quietly. Luke let out a surprised squeak when Michael brought his hand down in a hard smack across his ass, but it turned into a low moan when Michael rubbed over it soothingly.

    “You’re being naughty, baby,” he told him, his lips brushing over Luke’s ear, bringing up his other hand to cup Luke’s face. “Do I need to put you on the naughty list?”

    “No!” Luke squawked, pulling back to look at Michael with a frown. “I haven’t been naughty! I’ve been  _ nice! _ Fuck you.”

    “Sorry, baby,” Michael amended, wrapping his arms around Luke and holding him close. “You’re right. You’ve been the best. Top of the nice list.”

    “Good,” Luke smiled, letting Michael kiss him again but pulling away after a moment to yawn.

    “C’mon,” Michael said, standing up and bringing Luke with him, starting to lead him towards the bedroom.

    “Wait I need to grab the gingerbread lube!” Luke exclaimed, trying to return to the couch.

    “I told you, we’re not having sex,” Michael reminded him, pulling him all the way to the bed and pushing his shoulders until Luke was sat down on the edge of it. “It’s late, and I really do need to go. You should go to sleep.”

    “But my Christmas wish...” Luke pouted.

    “I’ll come back when I’m finished, okay? If you still want me then, I’ll be your present.”

    “Okay,” Luke said uncertainly. “You promise you’ll be back? I can only use the gingerbread lube until December 26th, ‘cause then it’s tacky.”

    “I promise, baby,” Michael said, pressing a kiss to Luke’s forehead and helping him into bed. Michael smiled fondly when he flicked off the bedroom lights and heard Luke sleepily mumble “‘s seasonal.”

 

    When Luke woke up a few hours later we wondered briefly if he had dreamt the whole thing, and if maybe there had been more than just pot in the Christmas cookies that Calum and Ashton had given him the night before. But when Luke looked over to his bedside table he saw a large sack of sugar that had been left there and reached out to pick up the post-it note stuck to the front of it, just under a big red satin bow.

_     sorry I couldn’t get you a sugar daddy but here’s some sugar _

_     -kris kringle  
_

    Luke turned the note over and grinned when he saw the message on the back.

_     ur presents are under the tree. leave the chimney open and i’ll see you tonite _

    Luke ran out to the living room and gasped when he saw a pair of gold boots glinting like tinsel under his wimpy little Charlie Brown tree. After he’d put them on and found that they were a perfect fit he went into the kitchen to start a bowl of waffle batter, eager to try out his other gift. While he was waiting for the first batch to cook he let out a low whistle and grinned bemusedly.

    “Holy fuck,” he muttered. “Santa Claus is my Sugar Daddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry that this is terrible but I was really entertained by the idea. I debated trying to write some semblance of smut in it but I literally can't write that, like it would be so awkward and horrible to read so I just left that implied. I also wrote this like a week ago but I figured I should wait until at least December 1st to post it.


End file.
